The Originals Oneshots
by KatemonLazuli
Summary: Several oneshots starring The Originals characters. Mainly Klebekah (as siblings) and Rebel but other pairings are possible. Will never be complete for sure since I'll add as many oneshots as my brain can come up with. Enjoy!
1. The Brother You Need

**_AN: Set after 5x08. Klaus and Rebekah have a little conversation about her departure and her situation with Marcel. First time ever writing The Originals characters so be honest about what you think in your comments and if you liked it! ;)_**

* * *

 _The Brother You Need_

Klaus was staring down at the Quarter from Hope's balcony, admiring nightfall as the stars shone into the dark sky like gold nuggets. How familiar it was…

He remembered how he would do the exact same thing every night, wherever he was, looking up at the sky and imagining that Hope was doing the same back in New Orleans. All these years spent far away from his own blood, these little moments had been the only source of comfort he could manage to provide for himself. And now it was over. It wouldn't be a few hours before his daughter returned home and he couldn't wait. They could finally be reunited as a family, for real this time. No more voices whispering in their heads, no more flowers withering at an alarming speed at their proximity, no more snakes slithering out of his little girl's mouth. The only flaw in this picturesque family gathering was the presence of The Hallow in Hope. They had won the battle, but not the war. And Klaus knew that whatever was coming next would be much worse, so might as well enjoy the little rest they were granted.

"I thought I'd find you here," Rebekah's soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

From where he was, Klaus couldn't guess the sad smile on the blonde's lips, nor the look of regret that crossed her blue eyes when she passed a picture of herself and a seven-year-old Hope on the nightstand.

"I'm still processing the outcome of this _Chambre de Chasse_ episode. I haven't realized quite yet that our family is no longer doomed to stay away from each other," came Klaus' truthful reply.

He was still facing away from her, arms extended on the balcony bar as he observed the late distractions of the passersby. Few of them dared looking up at him, and the hybrid couldn't help smirking. _Some things never changed_.

Rebekah walked up to him. "I'm happy for you, Nik. Hope needs you more than ever now that Hayley is…gone. And you need her just as much. It comforts me to know you two have each other," she came to stand next to him, copying his activity.

The Quarter had always been full of life. No matter how many times she left, it was always a pleasure to come back. Everything just seemed familiar here. It felt like home.

"Why does it sound like a goodbye speech, little sister?" Klaus pointed out, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

Rebekah remained silent, avoiding eye contact as she figured she would give her brother a few seconds to swallow the bitter pill. Somehow, he was always the one reacting more harshly than the others at her departures. Except Marcel, of course. The bond that had formed between them ever since they were children made it so hard to let go.

"You're leaving. Again." His tone wasn't angry. It held a shade of resignation and hurt, which was even more striking to Rebekah. Klaus finally tore his eyes away from the crowded streets and turned to gaze at his sister. "We're all back together as a family again, and you choose to leave us when _you_ certainly are the one who suffered the most throughout this forced separation. Why?" he asked calmly.

Rebekah knew him enough to decipher the calculative nature of his question. He knew why. He wanted her to admit it to him. Yet, she found a way to clutch at the lie she had made up in her mind. Mostly because the truth hurt.

"Settling has never been my thing, you know that, Nik," the blonde shrugged in a manner that was meant to look casual, but the hybrid knew better. "Besides, that forced separation has taught me one thing – at some point, each of us is going to want to live their own life and we _will_ have to separate. I'm just starting mine a bit sooner than everyone is all," she gave him a small smile.

That Klaus didn't buy. Now facing her completely, the infuriating hybrid crossed his arms and shook his head disapprovingly. The reason behind her departure had nothing to do with family, but _love_. After all, it had always been Rebekah's Achilles' heel and it always will be. But he no longer wanted to be the brother that caused her heartache. As crazy as it sounded, especially coming from a psycho like him – he wanted to be the one to give her advice, to be the confident she had always hoped to find in him, in vain. All in all, he simply wished to be a better brother.

"Do you honestly think I don't know about your little heart-to-heart with Marcellus?" Klaus betrayed himself, staring at his little sister with such intensity in his eyes that Rebekah had to swallow. "I immediately knew something was wrong when I found him alone without you by his sides. After today, I was expecting to walk in on you two being all tangled up in sheets and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears," he stated with his usual touch of irony.

Rebekah hated the accuracy of Klaus' description. It should've been that way, indeed. And had she found the courage to push her sadness aside, that's probably what would have happened. Instead she was walking away from the one true love of her life. The thought made her heart clench painfully.

Seeing that his sister had nothing to say, Klaus sighed deeply.

"But instead he told me that you wouldn't be with him because you were afraid your sadness would destroy him," he sent her a bewildered look. Enough to demand explanations to this nonsense.

Rebekah took a deep breath before meeting her brother's profound stare. She didn't want to justify her choice – and honestly, she didn't have to – but it felt good to talk about it.

"What do you want me to say, Nik? I'm trying to protect him."

"By breaking his heart and yours in the process?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

From an external point of view, it seemed like Klaus was mad at Rebekah for hurting the man he considered to be his adoptive son. But for anyone who knew them, it was clear that Klaus was concerned for his sister's happiness and confused by the decision she had made.

"By being something you're unfamiliar with – _selfless_ ," Rebekah deadpanned. Klaus narrowed her eyes at her and she sighed, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "It's no secret I hate being a vampire. All those years ago, I went after the cure because I wanted to be human, I wanted a family of my own, I wanted to have children," her eyes teared up as she looked away from her frowning brother. "And I still want that. But I know I can't have it," she continued.

"And how is your endless turmoil a reason to turn your back on the one chance you had at true love and happiness?"

The blonde looked up at Klaus. He was genuinely lost, and she would've found it amusing on another occasion. It was sad to note that the first conversation they had about love - without it being about Klaus having murdered another one of her suitors – consisted in reflecting on why she had given it up. Dramatic irony.

"Because eventually, all this resentment I have against our fate will eat me alive. It's already been killing me slowly for a thousand years, I feel it. And the one who'll be on the receiving end of my despair will be Marcel," she sounded solemn, resigned.

Klaus didn't cut her off, her words hitting him like a punch in the heart. He had never realized how deep was the scar their parents' felony had left on his sister's soul. How much she was suffering. He could bring those bastards back to life just to kill them again for causing so much harm to Rebekah. His precious little sister.

"Soon, I'll be dragging him down with me because I won't be able to stand looking at his face anymore, all because he'll be the reminder that he _chose_ this life and _I_ didn't. I can't let it come to this point. I can't be the one destroying what we have," her voice broke as a few tears slid down her cheeks.

Getting emotional himself, touched by Rebekah's dilemma, Klaus shook his head. "So, you're gonna let this pipe dream you're chasing ruin the very thing you've always wanted – true love? After all these years searching for it and you give up fighting on the first obstacle thrown your way?" he sounded spiteful, but Rebekah knew he was only trying to strike her chord.

Hadn't she been so hung up on her decision it might have worked. But as Marcel had once told her, she was the toughest one of the Mikaelsons, and stubborn was her second name.

"It's more complicated than that, Nik. Sometimes it's wiser to withdraw from a battle you know you _can't_ win."

"Oh, come on, Rebekah!" the hybrid exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "You and I both know it's not wisdom, selflessness or any other pretty word you find to label it. It's _cowardice_ ," he let out passionately, his eyes never leaving hers.

Even though Rebekah knew he meant to provoke her, it still cut her to the quick. Maybe his words echoed so loud in her soul because there was some truth to them. It hurt to think that he might be right, that she might be a powerless coward running away from everything she'd ever wanted because she was scared it would all vanish into dust the second she embraced it.

"Perhaps you're right," she whispered shamefully.

The way she said it was shattering and Klaus almost regretted being so hard on her. But he wanted her to fight for her happy ending, because she deserved it more than any of them did. Just as he was about to say something though, she beat him to it.

"Why do you care, anyway? You've never been a fan of me and Marcel together," Rebekah reminded him, glad to move on from pain to curiosity. "You acting all couples counselor on me is unusual, not to say blatantly scary."

Klaus had to smirk at his sister's wittiness. "I realized I was wrong - there's a first time to everything."

"Wrong? About what?" Rebekah frowned, crossing her arms.

"About you and Marcel. About the way I've behaved everytime you found someone to love," he admitted reluctantly. Klaus wouldn't be Klaus without his overinflated ego and oversized pride.

Rebekah gaped, blinking away the shock of her brother's lucidity. "Come again? I think I just heard my bloody brother admit he's been an overprotective cockblock and a narcissistic spoilsport for more than a thousand years now," she playfully mocked.

Klaus laughed. "You've always been good at portraying me," he smiled before uncrossing her arms, so he could take her hands in his. "More seriously, sister. There's something I told Marcel years ago that I didn't tell _you_."

"And what is that?" the blonde lifted an eyebrow.

He took a deep breath and planted his eyes on hers.

"When I apologized to him for being a bad father, I told him why I despised the idea of you two together. I told him your love for him was a threat, that I couldn't see how either of you could love each other and still have room for _me_ ," he confessed, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Rebekah swallowed the lump in her throat. She'd always known it had something to do with his fear of being alone but hearing him admit it to her was beyond heartbreaking.

"You and your eternal fear of abandonment," she gave him a small knowing smile, squeezing his hands.

"You were right – each of us is broken, and I shouldn't have let my fear rule over me."

Rebekah nodded understandingly. She couldn't blame him anymore. She wasn't mad at him anymore. She had forgiven him a long time ago.

"Which is precisely why I won't let you do the same," Klaus tightened his hold around her hands. "Do not make the same mistake I did and sacrifice your love for Marcel because you're afraid of what you'll do to _him_ , to you both."

Tears rolled down Rebekah's cheeks. "I don't _want_ to," she choked up.

"Then, _don't_." He let go of her hands to grab her face and watched her intently. "I want you to be happy, _sister_. Out of all the men you've fancied, Marcel has always been the only one worthy of your love and that's why I hated it. I love you, and I will always need you, but so does he."

Rebekah was speechless. She couldn't get her lips to work and form any words because Klaus had been the last one she would have guessed to be on Marcel's side. On _both_ of their sides, in fact. He was practically giving her his _blessing_ to be with Marcel and even marry him. Her heart tightened even more at the realization. It had taken her to leave Marcel for Klaus to see they were meant for each other. How tragic.

She continued crying silently and watched as he dropped a loving kiss on her forehead.

"And if one day I'm walking you down that altar, I do hope it leads to him."

And on these words, Klaus left her pondering alone, not without sending her one last meaningful look.

As he walked out of the room, Rebekah closed her eyes and let the tears flow as she let his words sink in. She knew he was right, but would she find it in her to overcome this crisis?

Sighing, she stared at the twinkling stars in the night sky. Marcel used to write that her blue eyes shared the same sparkle in his letters, and that this way he always thought about her when he was away.

She smiled at the memory.


	2. May I Have This Dance And You Back

_**A/N : Set in 5x11, during Freya and Keelin's wedding party. We only got a ten-second scene between Rebekah and Marcel. I felt they deserved at least a dance. Hope you enjoy this Rebel oneshot. It was my first time writing them so I might get better at it over the years. Tell me what you thought in the reviews, I'm here for it and it would please me very much. Kisses. 3**_

* * *

 _May I Have this Dance and You Back ?_  


Have you ever felt that bittersweet happiness for someone you love? Someone you look up to, someone you know deserves everything that's happening to them. Someone who is getting everything that _you've_ always wanted. It's a peculiar feeling, isn't it?

That's what Rebekah was telling herself while she watched her sister getting married to the love of her life. For a thousand years, Freya had roamed the earth in search of the family she'd so violently been snatched from. The unconditional love, the loyalty, the understanding of her siblings was what Freya had so desperately craved for so long. And to finally have it, along with that of her soulmate, Rebekah thought she deserved.

But she couldn't help thinking about how this could have been _her_. _Her_ ceremony. _Her_ wedding dress. _Her_ vows. _Her_ day. She felt like _she_ was supposed to be the one getting walked down the aisle by her two favorite brothers, even though Freya was the eldest. Deep down, Rebekah knew it was her fault. She was the only one to blame for the aching feeling in her chest. Had she said _yes_ , they could've been husband and wife by now.

As the two brides shared their first "officially married" kiss, the blonde glanced over at Marcel. He was clapping dully, as if lost in thoughts himself. No doubt they were about how the beautiful bride's sister had broken his heart. Sensing her eyes on him, Marcel held her gaze. And it said more than he could ever utter. _Why? Why did you do this to us? To me?_ The look of raw pain he gave her was too much, and Rebekah had to look away. _God, she loved him…_ Swallowing down the lump which had formed in her throat, she put on a brave smile and cheered at Freya and Keelin.

* * *

Marcel was never one to miss a good party, and a Mikaelson wedding sure promised great music and lots of dancing. Being a talented singer himself, he could appreciate the fine melody the musicians were playing in a way the others couldn't. The subtle notes, the mesmerizing rhythm, the delicate technique… He smirked. You could always count on Klaus to compel the best of the best. Still, it wasn't enough to take his mind off things. Off _her_. Which partly explained why he was sulking in a corner, sipping from his glass of Champagne and watching the others dance when he was usually the one painting the town red in such occasions.

"I won't tell dad if you give me that glass and go over to the dancefloor. I'll deny any involvement of yours, I promise," Hope came into view and beamed at him.

Marcel shook his head at the fifteen-year-old, always amused by the similar traits she seemed to share with her father. "Nah. I think I'll pass."

"Yeah, that's what I said when uncle Elijah handed me the forty-fourth glass of apple juice. I feel like I'm trapped between an adult reception and a kindergarten birthday party. Seriously, one alcohol beverage won't kill me," the teenage girl groaned as she eyed Marcel's Champagne.

He chuckled, grateful to her for the few seconds he'd stopped thinking about the fierce Original beauty he was head over heels in love with. But like a magnet, his eyes were powerlessly drawn to the girl's aunt again. Rebekah was sitting at a table, alone, and watching Freya, Davina and Keelin dancing while Kol and Klaus talked together. She didn't seem in a better mood.

Hope followed her brother-slash-uncle's look and sighed. These two were so complicated. Then again, nothing was ever easy in the Mikaelson family, was it?

"Do you two plan on avoiding each other for the rest of your eternal lives?" Hope let out, arching an eyebrow as she crossed her arms.

"Is a fifteen-year-old witch about to give me a lesson about love?" Marcel sarcastically threw back, finding the idea very funny.

"She might if you two don't stop acting like teens," Hope replied seriously, earning a glare from Marcel.

"Listen, kid, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not sure you can help on that one."

"You asked her to marry you, she said no. So, what?" Hope exclaimed, obviously ignoring his previous remark. "She told you why. Get over it and prove her wrong."

A smile itched on Marcel's mouth. She did make a point. He had always appreciated raw honesty. Boldness. Some of the many things that had seduced him in Rebekah. Although he knew the scar in their couple was deeper than what Hope made it seem like. But that was knowledge she couldn't understand yet. Centuries of love story were not so easily dealt with.

"You have your aunt's sharp tongue," he told her before sending a longing look toward Rebekah. One that made Hope smile and wish she would find someone who looked at her like that and loved her just as much.

"And I also happen to have her fondness for great, romantic love stories. Like yours," Hope smiled. "You've been in love for centuries. Your love story is literally a legend by now. Don't give it such a poor ending," she brushed his arm.

On these words, Hope let him ponder and left to join her family on the dancefloor.

Marcel didn't tear his eyes away from his lover. _Rebekah Mikaelson_. Sweet, strong, fierce, vulnerable. Stunning like no other woman he had come across, effectively doing honor to her history-known reputation. He'd fallen in love with her over and over again throughout the centuries. They'd hurt each other more times than he could count, but she had been the one to give their couple the final blow. Break his heart in a way she hadn't before. Yet, he still loved her so very much. He knew he would never stop, as he had told her in the _Chambre de Chasse._ She was his strength and his weakness at the same time. And he knew he was hers.

Dawning the rest of his Champagne, Marcel gave the empty glass to a waiter passing by, before heading over to Rebekah. Maybe it was time to put his pride aside and make her crack again.

* * *

Rebekah saw him coming over, but pretended she was busy contemplating her glass of expensive wine instead. While she was observing the others dancing, she had spotted him talking to Hope. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what they had been saying, but she had caught Marcel looking at her from the corner of her eyes. It was pleasant and heartbreaking at the same time. Though she knew she was the reason they weren't together right now, she couldn't help but appreciate to remain his center of attention.

It wasn't a secret for anyone that Rebekah Mikaelson loved attention and affection. To be the one people noticed among the world's biggest crowd. To be cherished and made love to like she was the last woman in the whole universe. After all, she had longed for it ever since she was a little girl, thanks to their dear father. And Marcel fulfilled all those long-lasting needs…

"You've always taken your sweet time savoring the finest of red wines," Marcel noted as he gestured toward her still half-filled glass. They'd eaten dinner and been served drinks hours ago.

Rebekah seemed to go through a mental debate on whether to start a conversation or not. Eventually, she looked up at the man who owned her heart and shrugged.

"There are few things left to enjoy when you're a vampire, so might as well make it last."

While she expected the conversation to turn into something moodier, she wasn't ready for Marcel's hurtful words. They hit her like a damn dagger in the heart.

"Yeah, unfortunately that's not the motto you chose to adopt for our relationship, is it?" he replied in a regretful tone.

Rebekah sighed, not wanting to go there. "Marcel…"

The brown-skinned man shook his head, as if composing himself. That was not the path he intended to take with her tonight. It was merely an unintentional slip from his resentful mind.

"May I have this dance?" he bowed down, extending his hand in the process. He gave her that dashing smile of his, taking Rebekah aback.

The change of atmosphere was sudden and unsettling. She didn't miss the flirting tone in his voice and barely resisted the urge to enter his game. It was so easy to slip back into their teasing dynamic, give in to the cries of her heart and the tingles of her skin… Both yearning for his touch, for his kisses, for his sweet words…

"I'm good," Rebekah declined coolly.

Except she had to abide by her own rules. Live up to the dilemma she had chosen to embrace. Preserve him from the sadness in her soul that would undoubtedly end up destroying him. And pride made it hard to renounce.

Marcel didn't give up on the case. He raised a knowing eyebrow and smirked. "I take it resisting me is a permanent struggle? Come on, I promise I'll keep it safe," he tempted.

The blonde's icy blue eyes looked him over, full of hesitation. She _was_ struggling. His charms, his presence, his cocky self… All of it was _more_ than appealing and she wanted to prove him wrong because of the strong, independent image she liked to convey no matter what. Besides, their last kiss on the balcony had left her wanting more, and she couldn't ignore the need of proximity eating at her. It had been a while. Way too long. Nothing would happen, right? One dance was okay, after all. Barely enough to soothe her bruised heart and ease her affectionate needs.

" _One_ dance," Rebekah warned as she put her hand in his. The fact he looked deliciously handsome in his black suit played in his favor. She couldn't resist a man in suit, especially not _him_.

Marcel smiled triumphantly and dragged her to the dancefloor.

* * *

The musicians were playing a slow, enticing song, clearly meant for couples. Freya and Keelin, Kol and Davina were already slow-dancing to it, lost in their own bubble. None of them noticed Marcel and Rebekah making their surprising appearance on the dancefloor but Hope and Klaus were watching them with intense expressions. The fifteen-year-old was grinning excitedly, proud to see that her little intervention had borne fruit. As for the murderous hybrid, he was conflicted between the approval he felt for the couple and the fear that it would only lead to further heartache for his little sister.

"Do you remember the last time we slow-danced?" Marcel asked as he laced his arm around the blonde's waist.

Rebekah ignored the familiar goosebumps blossoming on her skin and placed a hand on his left shoulder. "New Year's Eve," she automatically answered.

"Correct," he took her free hand into his and they started rotating. Their fingers intertwined perfectly, echoing the flawless match of their two souls.

"You took me to that sumptuous rooftop in New York…," Rebekah trailed off as she remembered the lights, the candles, and the cute table for two Marcel had set up for them. It was one of the most expensive rooftops in the city, and he'd privatized the area for the whole night. "And we danced all night."

Her voice was soft and her face nostalgic as she looked up at Marcel, who was returning her expression. They stared at each other a few seconds, but the moment felt too intense and one of them had to break it.

"Dancing is not the only thing we did on that rooftop that night," Marcel smirked suggestively.

"Of course, you would mention _that_ ," Rebekah shook her head, but the subtle blush covering her cheeks gave away the fact she'd thought about it too.

The brown-eyed vampire found it adorable, really, how shy she could get about their passionate lovemaking. That's something he had always loved about Rebekah. How she could be feisty, sexy and dominating with _any_ man, yet showed a softer side when she was in love. When she was with _him_. That's how he knew she felt for him, and it explained the happy, confident look he wore.

"You look absolutely ravishing in that dress," he brought her closer to his chest and air blocked in her lungs.

The grey, satin bridesmaid dress made Rebekah's bright blue eyes stand out. It hugged her curves perfectly, only contributing to her natural attractiveness. Marcel couldn't help staring at her full lips, covered in matte lipstick. It was impossible to resist such a beauty, he thought.

"Thank you," she whispered, their lips inches away from each other.

Rebekah knew what he was doing. He was pushing her buttons, working her up the way only _he_ could manage. It was a tradition between them, a game they'd been playing since the first time they'd realized they were helplessly attracted to one another. A dance they'd been dancing for centuries. He was stirring familiar stuff and behavior between them.

But this time the effect was not the one expected. Struck by black thoughts, Rebekah suddenly resumed the safe distance between their faces and looked down. Too much had happened, circumstances had brought about major change. A sick niece, a split family, an untimely proposal… Now all that this intimate routine was doing to Rebekah was hurt her. Because things were not the same anymore, and it only reminded her of how dangerous she was to their couple. How dangerous her sadness was to him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Marcel frowned, confused. They were still dancing, and his thumb unconsciously brushed against the back of her hand. There was no point fighting the soothing feeling that his gesture provided.

"I just wish things were easy, that is all," Rebekah sighed.

Marcel paused and cupped her chin, tilting her head up as he eyed her intensely. It felt like he was scanning her very soul, which she knew he could do.

"Things _are_ easy. You're the one who makes them complicated, Rebekah."

There was some truth in his words, but she wouldn't agree. Wouldn't bring herself to admit she was wrong. At least not _yet_ , Marcel thought.

"Then, by all means, prove me wrong."

Her words were like a flashback. They brought him back to that moment in the church, so many years ago now, when she had accused him of using her. And that's how he knew Rebekah was almost ready. She was vulnerable enough to think clearly.

"Gladly," Marcel retorted.

He'd just have to play it smartly, hit the right spots that would make her wall crumble into pieces. That wall she had erected around her heart to protect herself from the pain that being away from him brought. That pain he found unnecessary, but she insisted on inflicting on them both because of whatever reason she'd cooked up. Her sadness was never a threat to his sanity – her fear of happiness _was_. It was about time she understood that.

"It's _easy_ for us to do this," Marcel gestured toward their joined hands, referring to how cozy they looked while dancing, "even when we're supposed to feel awkward."

Rebekah glanced around them and realized they seemed like a perfectly normal couple. As normal as Kol and Davina or Freya and Keelin. They were used to being intimate, close, and in love. They were at ease with each other. No one would even guess they were 'on a break'. She knew it. She knew they looked like they belonged together.

"It doesn't change anything, Marcellus," the blonde stubbornly replied as she planted her loving eyes on him. The way he stared at her – like she was the eighth wonder of the world – tied her stomach into knots.

The upgraded vampire ignored her. Instead, he grasped her hand and twirled her around without a warning, her blonde curls graciously flying as he did so. A small surprised gasp escaped Rebekah's mouth and she found her back being pressed to his muscular chest.

"It's _easy_ for me to make you shiver," his breath tickled her sensitive neck as he leant down to whisper into her ear, "because I get you like no other man ever will."

Rebekah shuddered, effectively confirming his words. _Oh, how she missed feeling him._ Those strong arms inside which she felt the safest in the world, those talented hands doing wonders to her body, those reassuring yet inhumane beats of his dead heart…

She forced herself not to give in, not to let her body betray her and therefore put her emotions on display – but she knew it was a lost battle. And then he kissed her earlobe and her neck, making sure to prove his point by placing his lips on the areas he knew to be the most erogenous there. She bit her lip. _God, he was good._

"It's _easy_ for me to feel like the luckiest man in the world with you in my arms," Marcel spoke into her hair and swayed them from side to side, following the song's slow rhythm.

Rebekah closed her eyes, lost in the wave of serenity that his words provided. Marcel had always been dangerously eloquent. He had a way with words, and love declarations, that could melt a girl's heart in less than a second. He'd always known what to say to her to slide into the depth of her longing heart. A charming smooth talker, he was. She'd fallen for it over and over again. And he'd proved that he had meant every single world, over and over again too.

Marcel gently swirled her so she was facing him again. His hand tightened around her slender waist as he pulled her against his body, shamelessly crushing her breasts against his torso. Rebekah could feel his fingers deliciously digging into her hips through the soft fabric of her dress. She gulped, hating how helpless she felt against his touch, right now. Yet loving every second of it.

"And it's _easy_ for me to love you," he stroked her cheek so tenderly it caused Rebekah to tear up, "because I've never felt like myself with anyone else."

The Original beauty was remained silent. There was no use fighting centuries-old reactions. That man knew the way to her heart and body, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, even if she wanted to. They'd reached a point where the love between them was too powerful to be pushed away.

"Marcel, please stop…" It came out as a hopeless plea, but its meaning was the opposite.

"And that's because all of this is easy that it's never really over between us."

Knowing he had her right where he wanted – and not resisting the urge that came with the sight of her tasteful mouth – Marcel smiled and captured her lips into a mind-blowing kiss.

Their eyes instantly shut at the contact, tongues slipping in and out, waging a searing war for domination. Rebekah moaned at the familiar sensation taking over her body, as Marcel fed from the exquisite source of love and lust that she was.

When they pulled away, his hand was tangled up into her hair and the other rested against her neck. Her arms were wrapped around his neck.

"You said you'd keep it safe," Rebekah arched an amused eyebrow. She was still dizzy from their kiss and angry at herself for caving in.

"Yeah, well, we both know restrain is not our thing," Marcel smirked satisfyingly.

His expression turned more serious when he brushed his finger over the smeared lipstick. In another situation, she would have scolded him for ruining her perfectly done make up.

"Has it ever occurred to you that _I_ might be the cure to your sadness, precisely because our love is the easiest thing to live with?" he asked.

"It has, now," she grinned and looked adoringly at him. He mirrored it.

"Then, surrender, my love?"

Rebekah nodded. And that was the only gesture Marcel needed to know he had her back. A few meters away from them, father and daughter smiled at them, silently agreeing to this reunion.


	3. The Last Petal

**A/N: Set a few months after 5x13. I decided to explore the TV show canon, but it won't be a constant. ****I'm not saying more, but let me know about your reactions and your thoughts on that oneshot. Reviews are the only feedbacks I get as a writer, so don't hold back.**

 **Xoxo, KatemonLazuli.**

* * *

 _The Last Petal_

So calm. Everything was so calm. Silent, prosperous, empty. The city exuded happiness, as if it finally had reached it after centuries of havoc. It was quite the same, even after all these months – the brick buildings, the decorated shops, the magical atmosphere, the French Quarter… Barely nothing had changed. Except, maybe, this newly found merriment. Maybe it was because vampires had left the city.

Yet, she was probably the only one who felt devastated right now. She had always been in contrast with life and standards, after all. Surrounded by walls and lights who reminded her of a past life she would never get to live again. This city was a reminder of the happiness she hadn't realized she had until it was yanked away from her. It held memories of a family she had cherished and lost on the same day.

"Firework's let off in about fifteen minutes. The best place to enjoy it is at Rousseau's, consider it free local advice."

The blonde turned around to frown at the unfamiliar voice who had addressed her. A young, red-headed man was grinning at her, hands pocketed in his long winter coat.

"Thanks for the advice," she said gently, "but I already have somewhere to be." It was no use telling him she knew the city like the back of her hand, had helped building it.

Once upon a time, New Orleans was her family's home, and her family was its royalty. But now, New Orleans was her family's cemetery, and her family was nothing but dust. Quite literally.

The man shrugged. "Very well. Have a merry Christmas, then."

"You too," she nodded shortly. Her words lacked enthusiasm. They were full of sorrow.

When the stranger was out of sight, the Original vampire sped through the streets, climbed on top of buildings, jumped down to the ground and basked in her supernatural abilities until there was no energy left to drain. A few victims walked back home thinking they'd been bitten by some enraged dog. _She_ was the enraged dog.

Her pace slowed down when she found herself in front of a bench. _The_ bench. Where everything had started, and ironically, where everything had ended. For _them_. It was her place to be tonight. She was the one they had left behind, the one picking up the pieces and learning how to fucking live without two parts of herself.

Rebekah took a deep breath and sat down. Straight. Still. Immobile. Dead. Inside and out.

Her shiny blue eyes had long lost their sparks. Now they were empty mirrors to her damaged soul.

She crossed her legs and let her delicate fingers brush over the arched wooden bench. Her hands were trembling, echoed by the unshed tears in her eyes as they followed their movement.

It was weird, thinking they had been sitting here, standing here, in their last moments of existence. She could easily picture Elijah in his noble posture and famous suit, a grave expression on his face as he stared at an emotional Klaus, dressed in his buttoned jacket and expensive shoes.

The blonde sighed deeply as she closed her eyes tightly. She was guilty. She'd let them do it anyway, let them die when she knew it would happen. Deep down, she had hoped for some sort of miracle. They'd always made it out alive throughout all these centuries, why not now?

"Why did it have to be final this time? Why did it have to be _both_ of you?" Rebekah whispered brokenly. Her fingers curled on the bench. She brought her right hand up and fidgeted with her daylight ring. It seemed to trigger a need for a conversation with the dead.

"Kol's been calling me daily. I'm surprised that selfish prat's keeping his promise seriously for once. Freya's living a happy married life with Keelin, I think that insemination baby's going to be even worse than Nik with Vincent's genes in it." She paused and so did the fidgeting. "Hope's coping. I'm – "

Rebekah frowned, at a loss for words. She was what? Mad? Lost? Furious? Sad? Full of grief?

"I'm empty. Trying to keep up appearances, pretending I can deal with the death of the two brothers I was closest to," Rebekah let out a cynical laugh. "Except it's the opposite. It's been months, and I still haven't found a way to mourn you when everyone has. It's the first time I even gather up enough courage to come back in that godforsaken city."

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and glanced around. She was still very much alone. How stupid she must look, talking to herself. Then again, she'd always been considered crazy. God, she missed them terribly.

"I hate being alive without you two. For centuries we walked together on this earth, and suddenly I'm expected to do so by myself. But how am I supposed to survive when two halves of my bloody soul are dead, huh?" she asked no one.

Cracking sounds echoed from the other side of the city, followed by ones that resembled a steaming teapot, before colored lights burst into the night.

Rebekah looked up at the sky. Fireworks illuminated the heavens like flashes of artificial lightning. It was beautiful. Truly beautiful. All these colors, these forms, these stars shining in the black sky… It was hypnotizing. Before she even knew it, the firework came to an end. The firecrackers disappeared, their smoke leaving behind traces of the form they had shaped for the grande finale – a _fleur-de-lis_ , symbol of New Orleans. Two of its three smoky petals were already vanishing, and to the one that remained for a few more seconds, Rebekah identified with.

She was the lasting petal of their fleur-de-lis. She was the last one of the Holy Trinity. And she needed to leave a mark behind too. Be the one that would insure that the Mikaelson name would endure, that Niklaus and Elijah would live on through her, and Kol, and Freya, and Hope _. Always and Forever_ – she was its creator, and now its guardian.

A single tear ran down her cheek as she stared up at the sky. "Merry Christmas, my dear brothers."

 _Yes_ , she did have somewhere to be. Tonight, here. Tomorrow – she'll find out.

"You okay?" Marcel's voice rang behind her, and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder. She hadn't heard him approaching, lost in thoughts.

Rebekah swallowed before casting one last look at the sky and around her. The two streetlamps behind her flickered and shone their light on her slim shadow. She looked like an angel whose wings had been cut.

"I will be." She took Marcel's hand to get up.

He gave her a faint smile, kissed her forehead, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder, and together they walked ahead.

The sky was smiling.


End file.
